


Wrap Me Up

by kaithartic (bluedreaming)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/kaithartic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongdae wants someone too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrap Me Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangaroo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kangaroo).



> Based on Sia's Breathe Me.  
> Written as an unofficial gift for the [fortexo exchange](http://fortexo.livejournal.con).

**Title:** Wrap Me Up  
**Recipient:** tiny_estrella  
**Word count:** 1100 words   
**Pairing:** Jongdae/Yixing  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** very minor accidental self-harm   
**Summary:** Jongdae wants someone too.  
**Author's note:** Based on Sia's Breathe Me.

Jongdae feels so lost. Not sometimes, like being bewildered in a new city, or looking for a lecture hall or a book in a library that's too big. He feels lost all the time.

Standing on the tram, warm bodies swaying and brushing against each other and yet he feels so alone; they all sway left but the strap of his backpack catches on the torn pleather of an old seat and he's flung right.

His friends all have girlfriends, soft sweet things with mouths like candy and long hair they twirl up into knots on the tops of their heads, trailing fingers through skirts or long legs peering out of summer shorts as they wait for their boyfriends to come and take them out for ice cream, his friends, who complain about how expensive and clingy girls are and yet they smile softly and dose out small kisses, while Jongdae likes boys. It's okay with them, it really is, they point out cute boys to him in the park and tag him on Twitter with the celebrities he likes but it's not the same. They all have someone and he doesn't have anyone. _That's what I get for hanging out with straight boys too much._

And usually he's okay with everything, he really is, it's okay and all that and he has friends and a supportive family and so what if he's living all alone in the city, going to school, walking long walks alone in the park weaving between couples and families with kids and poodles and red balloons. Jongdae can be happy.

Except when he can't.

Today is just one of those days, he'd caught, fleetingly, the expression in a person's eyes, meant for soneone else, and just for a minute he felt loved. Not the comforting love from his parents, nor the love of his friends, warm and happy and enfolding, but rather a passionate love, a burning love, compassion just for him.

These are the times Jongdae can't smile and joke and be snarky and witty and all the things his friends like so much. Sometimes, like today, he has to sneak off the tram and hide in the public washroom, curled up in on himself as he perches on the lid of a toilet in a locked stall and tries not to let the sobs escape too loudly. _You can make it through this._

He listens to the traffic of footsteps flowing in and out of the washroom, taps being turned on and off, doors closing and opening and footsteps leaving, and the sounds help to ground him so that he can stem the flow of water from his eyes, blinking back tears with dripping eyelashes. _Take a deep breath._

He doesn't even notice that his fingernails have dug crimson crescents in his palms from clenching his fists to stem the flow, as he slowly unlatches the stall door and stands, letting it swing open and wincing at the shrill sound.

"Are you okay?" a voice asks to his left; it sounds...concerned, worried. Jongdae stops, halfway to the sink, _Did someone just ask me how I was?_ He turns the feeling over in his stomach — it feels...nice. He turns to look. The man looks kind, smiling in a concerned way, his face that looks like it should always be happy, cheeks made for dimples and eyes for crinkling.

Jongdae's stomach flip-flops. _I wish I made someone happy like that._

"Your hands are bleeding!" the man says, and pulls Jongdae over to the sinks to wash his palms, the water running from pink to clear until the porcelain sink is white again. Jongdae should be uncomfortable — a stranger is washing his hands in a public washroom — but instead he feels safe. _Loved._

The man finishes off by leading Jongdae to the air dryer to dry off his hands, turning them over to inspect the tiny wounds. Jongdae can catch him sneaking tiny glimpses at him in the reflection of the mirror.

"Why were you crying?" the man asks, looking at his puffy red eyes. Jongdae looks away, at the tiled walls, the overflowing garbage can, the people walking in and out.

"Just lonely," he says, and it was meant to sound blasé and be accompanied by a sardonic grin but he's too tired.

The man frowns, but Jongdae doesn't even hope, he only turns and walks away.

"Wait!" the man calls behind him. There's a note of authenticity in his voice. Jongdae pauses, still not lookng back.

"Can we have coffee or something? Jongdae rolls the tone over and around his head. _I think he means it._ He nods, unsure, but then the man breaks into one of the largest most incredible smiles he's ever seen and he finds himself nodding by default.

"I'm Yixing," the man said, "by the way." He doesn't take Jongdae's hand, the tiny indentations in his skin are burning in the chilly air, but the back of his hand brushing against Jongdae's hand make it seem like he'd like to.

"Jongdae," he says, by way of introduction. Yixing nods, and seeing that he's shivering slightly, takes off his scarf to wind it around Jongdae's neck.

It smells like cloves and star anise and grandmothers baking pie. _It smells like home._

Sitting across from Yixing in the tiny café, wrapped up in his scarf, sipping got chocolate, Jongdae feels small in the best way. _I feel like someone loves me._ He looks across the small table, the space so tight that they're bumping knees, and wishes that he could, just this once, keep. He doesn't want to be a girl and yet he wants this. To belong to someone. _Your girlfriend is probably the cutest sweetest thing with dimples and a pink mouth that you can't help kissing._

Jongdae's startled out of his sad musings by the softest brush of skin over his lips; he looks up in surprise to see Yixing settling back into his seat.

Jongdae's hand flies up to his mouth, touching his lips — he doesn't know what to say.

"You looked sad again," Yixing says, by way of explanation. "It makes me want to kiss the sadness away." He looks slightly embarrassed — "I'm sorry, I won't do it again..."

"No wait!" Jongdae said, the words accidentally falling out of his mouth before he can catch them and stuff them back in, hide them behind jokes and grins and things he doesn't mean but uses to cover up the things he wants.

"Yes?" Yixing cocks an eyebrow, waiting, and somehow Jongdae feels it's safe enough to explain. _The smell of grandma's baking._

"I liked it," he says in a small voice, looking down at his hands, still stinging sligtly. His attention is drawn away again by a soft laugh.

"That's good," Yixing says, "because I liked it too." He looks at Jongdae for a moment, as though trying to figure out how to approach a wild animal, scared and shivering in the dark. "Can I keep you?"

Jongdae doesn't have to think twice.

"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear lovely kangaroo. Thanks Adele for letting me do this!


End file.
